Recruiting
by QuidnamInferorum
Summary: SHIELD tries to convince the Winchesters and reader to join them. Inspired by an imagine from wayward-marvel-and-more. Warnings: Swearing and sass.


"Why do monsters all have to live in the most stereotypical places?"

They were driving back from a successful hunt somewhere in rural Nebraska, back to the Bunker. Sam was curled up in the back, sleeping after having spent the previous eighteen hours awake and the wounds the werewolf had given him. Dean was a little bruised and battered, but no more than usual, so he had put on his game face and gotten behind the wheel of Baby. It was only a few hours back to the Bunker, and the idea of being in their own beds was too tempting to pass up. Y/N was curled up into Dean's side on the front bench of Baby, resting her head on his shoulder. She wasn't too bruised up either, thankfully.

Dean chuckled, cocking his head towards Y/N. "Maybe they get a deal on abandoned warehouses on the outskirts of town."

"I'd love to meet their realtor."

He chuckled, pulling her closer by the arm around her shoulders. The tall brick building that signaled their homecoming broke the horizon, and the couple smiled widely at the sight.

Then they got closer.

In front of the Bunker sat a black SUV. It was the kind of black SUV that people described when they had witnessed the vehicle that took the now-missing person.

"Son of a bitch." As the words left her boyfriend's lips, Y/N leaned over and shook Sam awake.

Within seconds, the younger Winchester was awake and ready. Dean parked farther away, praying that the low, loud rumble of his Baby hadn't already given them away.

They crept out of the Impala, each grabbing a weapon from the bag—Dean his gun, Sam the demon knife, and Y/N a pistol loaded with silver bullets—and moving silently towards the main door.

Sam inspected it, checking for anything weird on it or any sign of what had invaded their home.

Obviously, they had to be human; the warding covering every inch of the Bunker saw to that.

Dean pushed his younger brother back behind him, his protective instincts flaring up as bad as ever. Taking point, he opened the door as quietly as the he could.

The familiar clanking sound filled the area, and they all bristled. Y/N's eyes were darting around madly, searching for any sign of the ambush that was undoubtedly awaiting them.

The foyer was empty, save for the dishes Dean was supposed to have done before they left—dear God, she asked for so little, and she had cooked, he could've at least cleaned up—that littered the map table and were seemingly undisturbed.

Dean held his gun at the ready, his heavy boots making no sound as he walked slowly down the stairs. Sam was equally stealthy behind him, holding the knife tightly. Y/N stayed on the staircase, afraid to make a sound and instead taking a sniper position.

The lights suddenly clicked on. The three hunters whirled around, quickly finding the source.

In the archway leading to the library stood a tall, dark-skinned man, dressed like he'd just left the Matrix. To say he cut an intimidating figure would be an understatement. An eye patch covered his left eye, and he stood in their home, staring down at them like they were prey. Perhaps, on men who hadn't fought the Devil and came out victorious, it would've been frightening.

Dean, however, cocked his gun, aiming directly between the man's eyes.

The man answered with a huff of a laugh. "Hello to you too. I've been waiting for hours now."

"Sorry," Dean answered with no small amount of condescension. "We didn't know what time you were coming over."

The man's laugh was more genuine this time around. "Well, I do like to be unpredictable."

"Look, no offense," Sam began. "But the last time we found someone in here, they weren't friendly."

"So we'd appreciate an explanation before my girl up there shoots you full of silver."

The man nodded, his hands going into his pockets. "Nick Fury, director of SHIELD."

"Nick Fury? Sounds like a cartoon character," Dean teased.

"And we've never heard of anything called SHIELD," Sam added.

"Glad to hear that we're doing our job properly, then."

Y/N spoke finally. "Cool, so you got a fancy desk to hide interns under; still doesn't tell us why you're here."

Fury finally seemed to acknowledge her at that. "Ah, Miss Y/L/N. I see why Dean likes you so much."

"Oh, you better have a point," Dean nearly growled, taking a step towards the intruder.

Fury held his hands up in a half-hearted surrender. "I'm just here to offer you a job, that's all."

The Winchesters balked at that. Y/N took this time to walk down the stairs, Fury never leaving her sights, and join her family. Dean seemed to relax a little bit once he saw her taking her position as his side.

"A job?" The younger Winchester's eyebrows made their home at his hairline.

"Yes."

"Sorry, but we did that whole nine-to-five thing once before. Wasn't our thing," Dean said with a tight smile. "Well, it's been great to see you, but—"

"With everything that's been happening lately," Fury interrupted. "The supernatural world cannot be ignored any longer. This is a war, and we need soldiers."

"Last time someone talked to us about a war, they were trying to convince us to be their bitches," Dean's eyes narrowed.

Fury nodded. "Well, I'm certainly not an angel. Demon? …maybe. Depends on who you ask."

"Can't help but notice that you said nothing about making us your bitches," Y/N pointed out.

Fury smirked. "I don't want you to be my bitches. I want you to train others to fight the monsters in our closets."

"You want us to train people to be hunters?" Sam clarified.

Fury nodded. "You three are some of the best hunters out there, even with starting the odd apocalypse."

"And what happens if we don't fall in line, play teacher?" Dean snarled.

Fury shrugged. "I can't force you, obviously. I'll walk out of here, leave you to do what you do best. You'll live as long as you can in this life and only see me when I make the offer again."

"You'd offer again?" Y/N was shocked.

"Well, I'd wait until you were a bit more rundown, more willing to listen, obviously. I wouldn't come back tomorrow."

"Oh, awesome," Dean smiled insincerely.

"What do you get out of this?" Sam asked, his hazel eyes narrowing.

"Aside from trained hunters and having the Winchesters on the payroll? Not much, obviously," Fury rolled his eye. "Look, as much as we hate to admit it, we all share this planet. The supernatural are a threat we can no longer ignore. I've _finally_ convinced my superiors of this, but I need help. I've got other teams in place, of course, but no one who knows as much about these things as you do."

"And how the hell do we know that we can trust you?"

Fury turned to Dean and shrugged. "I don't know what else I can do. I waited for you, in your home, and didn't ambush you. I didn't even try to hide. Hell, I parked out front."

Sam and Y/N gave each other a shrug, silently giving him that. Dean didn't move his gaze from the intruder.

"What do we get out of this?" Y/N asked, lowering her gun slightly, but keeping her finger next to the trigger.

Dean did a double-take, looking back at his girlfriend for a moment.

Fury smiled. "Now we're talking."

"No, no, we're not talking about anything here," Dean tried.

Sam lowered his knife. "Dean, he might be telling the truth."

"Sam, he might be a lot of things, but he's _definitely_ someone who broke in."

"Fair point," Fury acquiesced.

"Dean, if he's telling the truth, we could help a lot of people," Sam huffed, annoyed more at the situation than his brother.

"He's got a freaking eye patch, Sammy!" Dean argued.

"Wow, not that we're profiling or anything," Y/N sighed heavily.

"Look, eye patches are for bad guys and pirates, that's it!"

"Or, controversially, people who've lost an eye," Fury added.

"Shut up," Dean growled.

Y/N placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, feeling just how tense he was even under the layers of shirts he had on. "Dean," she said softly. "Look, we can kick him out right now, no problem, alright? Then we can ask around, see if he's legit."

"And now we know who's the brains of the operation," Fury grinned.

"So help me—"

Y/N gave Fury a tight smile, squeezing her boyfriend's shoulder to quiet him.

Fury reached into his pocket, which caused every hunter in the room to ready themselves once more. He laughed humorlessly. "Just…just grabbing something. Something to convince you."

Before they could respond, he pulled out a small tablet and began swiping quickly all over it. A hologram projected from the front of it big enough to fill a wall. Pictures flashed by, almost too fast for them to recognize. Pictures of cities burning; of men, women, and children running and screaming; of a gaudy tower with an A on it; of another bunker only slightly similar to the one they stood in now; of a red, white, and blue shield; then, finally, pictures of men and women in a dark blue uniform, each picture like an employee ID. "These are just some of the recruits we've gathered, per your approval, of course."

Sam was walking closer to the hologram, his knife lowered only slightly. His hazel eyes ran back and forth across the makeshift monitor, trying to capture every detail as quick as he could.

Y/N resisted the urge to do the same. "Was that…what the hell was all that?"

Fury placed his tablet on the table in the library next to him, the monitor never moving. "The city isn't on the map anymore, and it wasn't your…jurisdiction, so don't worry about that. The tower was where you'd be staying when in New York, setting up the program. As for everything else? Classified. Until you sign on, of course."

"You can't tell us about it, but you can show us the pictures? Oh, yeah, this guy's legit," Dean snarked.

Sam whirled around to face Fury and the rest of his family. "Holy crap."

"What?"

"Dean…they're behind the Avengers."

Y/N laughed. "What? No, c'mon, Sam. If, if they have the Avengers on speed dial, they don't need us."

"Or maybe," Fury started. "They aren't some magical fix-all."

Dean fidgeted in his stance. "Would we train the Avengers, too?"

Y/N rolled her eyes as Fury grinned. "Hell yes."


End file.
